Ineffably Inevitable
by Lu82
Summary: Take two TV shows, shake them together, find common ground, distort all the distortable… and you'll get this story. Crowley has one of his brilliant ideas and shares it with Aziraphale. What if Jessica and Kevin got their super powers in a totally different way? What if their first meeting was different? Maybe this time everything between them could be more romantic. Maybe. About t
1. Prologue: Special people

Disclaimer: Some characters belong to Marvel, the others to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.  
I just own my madness, LOL.

Huge thanks to my beta redundant_angel 3

Prologue: Special People

New York, Birch Street, 14 March 2000

"Jessica, get a move on, you slow poke!" A ten-year old kid rushes in her room.  
He's wearing a baseball bat, a sporty outfit and he really looks bratty.  
He's the youngest member of the Jones family.

"Geez, Philipp, don't be a pain! I just have to grab my jacket and I'm ready!" The thirteen years old teenager replies, gathering all her stuff. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, combs her smooth, long, black hair, and irons out the heavy-metal t-shirt she's wearing.

"Just hurry the heck up, mom and dad have been waiting for you outside for ages!" Her petulant little brother reminds her.

Among everyone's agenda, school duties for the kids and professional ones for their parents, the Jones family doesn't have much time to spend together. That's why everyone treasures these little trips every once in a while. And if the kids must lose a day of school lessons for that, well, it's not that bad.

"You're exaggerating. They've only been waiting twenty minutes!" Jessica shrugs, donning her jacket and taking her rucksack. She almost dislocates her shoulder.

"Geez, it's so damn heavy! Yesterday it wasn't so damn heavy!" She complains, having serious trouble holding it.

Her little brother notices her inquiring glare.

"You did something!" She accuses him.

"Geez, Jess, what a fuss for a couple of things I added from my rucksack!" Phillip rolls his eyes.

"Couple of things like what? Huge stones?" She retorts.

"You're such a wuss, aren't you?" The young brother makes fun of her, opening her rucksack.

"I'll tell you what, I'll take back my videogame so it will be less heavy. Happy now?" he says nonchalantly, taking the game back. 

"Hey! First, nothing changed, dammit! Second, that's _my_ videogame!" She protests, irritated, grabbing the rucksack again with difficulty, also due to her skinny frame.

"Yeah, sure. I'll wait for you in the car!" Philipp trots away, giggling.

\- _What did I do so wrong in my life to have the most pain-in-the-ass brother in the world? _\- the teenager wonders, upset, glancing at her beloved _Greenday_ poster, before leaving the room and going downstairs, panting.

She would have preferred staying home, maybe listening to her favorite punk-rock songs, laying in her bed.

\- _This is gonna be such a long day_! -.

*******************************

London, St. James's Street, 14 March 2000

About five thousand and six hundred kilometers away and five hours forward, in the silver buildings of Goldsmiths University, Kevin is focusing on his psychopathology book in the library.  
There are just a few weeks before the exam and the twenty-three old student wants to excel. He feels he had embarked on the right study path. It's already the third year and so far he still has to find a subject that has not hooked him.

Sure, that has been the umpteenth disappointment for his parents, but Kevin has never had an ideal relationship with them, quite the contrary. He barely knows what their faces look like anymore. The Thompsons are well-known scientists and they've always considered their unplanned son as a burden and a constant distraction from their oh-so-important research.  
That's why he has been tossed around, first from one nanny to the others; then locked away in a boarding school, except for are the only times when Albert and Louise tried to act like true parents… with very poor results.

Kevin always looked forward to going back to boarding school rather than spending time with them. That's why he was more than happy when, at the tender age of fifteen years old, his parents kicked him out of that house without any affection and he went to live on his own. Albert and Louise just confined themselves to sending him the money he needed to support himself.  
And they kept doing that, even if unwillingly, when Kevin decided to apply to the Psychology University.

Albert and Louise were sure he would follow their footprints, studying Biology or Medicine, but there was no way Kevin would agree. He was well aware that, save for their D.N.A., he had nothing in common with his parents.

Kevin had always been fascinated by the human mind and its huge complexity; that's why he had no doubt about it when he had to choose in what area he should specialize.

"Here you go, _Family-Less_!" An irritating voice from behind catches him off guard.

It's Riley's voice, the bully who, with his gang, has been pestering Kevin since he set foot in the University. News spread very fast and it took little time for everyone at school to find out about his dysfunctional family situation, jumping to conclusions and portraying him like some kind of antisocial freak. This, along with the nearly perfect grades he was receiving, attracted the wrong kind of attention from other students. 

Kevin never cared much about other people. Social interactions were not his strong suit, although he was well versed in every single detail of them from a theoretical point of view. All he wanted was to study in peace and have everyone leave him alone. 

Too bad Riley doesn't care what Kevin wants.

"So, is the Teachers' pet getting ready to take another 100% at the next exam?" The bully teases him.

"That's what happens when someone studies, you know? You should open books more often, rather than closing your hands into fists." Kevin strikes back, with an extremely calm tone.

He never yearns for a fight, even less for violence, maybe also because his skinny disposition doesn't allow him such things. The bright yellow T-shirt he's wearing that day probably isn't helping his cause.

"Don't act as if you're better than me!" Riley growls. He's twice Kevin's size, but has less than half of his brain.

\- _But I am better, you stupid monkey!_\- Kevin muses, bothered, wishing Riley will get sick of pestering him.

It must be his lucky day, because the bully confines himself only to taking his book and throwing it into the paper basket before leaving. At least that's a place where Kevin can easily pick the book from. During the last four months he had to rebuy that book three times: once Riley threw it beneath a moving truck, another time he threw it in the toilet bowl, and another time he drew very obscene drawings and dirty words on it with a permanent marker. These were the luckier times, when Kevin himself was not the goal of Riley's vexations.

\- _One fine day everything will be over_. - Kevin cheers up, gathering his book. 

Waterbury, W Main Street, 14 March 2000

Aziraphale has an odd, pleasant feeling when the phone rings, even before lifting the receiver. He already knows who it is; his sixth sense can rarely deceive him. Okay, maybe a couple of times, involving a guillotine and a church ended up in wreckage. 

"Hallo?" he answers calmly.

"Angel." 

That voice. It's been thirty-three years, more or less, since he has heard that voice.

"My dear, it's been so long!" He lets the deep emotion slip into his voice.

\- _Maybe Crowley forgave me for telling him that night that he went too fast for me_. - he ponders.

"I have to tell you something. I passed by your book shop today but it was closed. Did you take a day off, angel?" Crowley asks him.

He's talking to him in such a calm and relaxed way that it seems they haven't heard from each other just since the day before. After all, for millennial and immortal creatures like them, time is relative; but Aziraphale is so accustomed to living among humans that he felt all those thirty-three years, day by day.

"Well, my dear, even for more than a single day. I'm in New York and not for holiday. I must prevent some people from deconsecrating a church," he explains.

"Always dutiful in your work!" The demon chuckles. "Can't you just take half day free, hmm? We could meet halfway, just in the time of a snap, hmm?" the redhead suggests.

"Temptation accomplished!" The blond approves. "Where do you want to meet?"

Amsterdam, Vondel Park, 14 March 2000

\- _This is not a date. This. Is. Not. A. Date_. - Aziraphale keeps repeating to himself, trying to calm down, when, a few hours later, he's walking through the park. It's beautiful, an explosion of all the colors that the imminent Spring is bringing with it.

Taking a stroll through the statues, the main points of interest, the meadows, the old trees and the large variety of flowers, finally the angel sees Crowley. He's waiting for him, across a little wooden bridge that leads to a wonderful blue gazebo, floating on the water.

He's wearing oh-so-tight black pants, a black T-shirt that almost looks transparent with the sunlight and a black jacket, left open, fluttering in the wind just like his long red hair, wild and free.

\- _He's beautiful, as always._ \- Aziraphale keeps his thoughts to himself, while he approaches him.

Crowley impatiently observes that living wonder made of tartan, soft and celestial colors, hair that's softer than clouds and a smile that's brighter than the sun, walking towards him.

\- _My amazing angel. How am I supposed to not to go fast when it's about you? I'd like to just grab you and kiss you inside this gazebo, until both of us are worn out_!- Crowley keeps his thoughts to himself, while he grumbles something to greet him.

"I admit that I got the wrong idea when you mentioned Amsterdam." Aziraphale says, while they're walking through the little bridge.

Crowley chuckles. "I bet you would. Although, I didn't disdain the idea of initiating you to red light districts and coffee shops!" the demon sneers maliciously, before getting to the point. "Angel, do you remember when I convinced you to collaborate with me during our common missions?"

"How could I forget? You went on for ages and at the end you won." The angel rolls his eyes at the sky.

"That's right and I hope to win even this time, but at the first try, without taking centuries again!"

Aziraphale shrugs.

"I was thinking… what if we found someone who can take on some of our missions for us?"

"What do you exactly mean?" The blond narrows his eyes.

"I'm talking about special people. People that we could 'employ' to help us. You with your angelic duties, me with my diabolical ones," the redhead explains.

"Do you mean a sort of… super hero?" Aziraphale stares at him, more and more dumbfounded. 

"Ngk! More an anti-hero from my side… anyway, yeah, I mean something like that. Think about it… someone who can guarantee safety and protection or make people sin a little, here and there… Just think about how much time we could save. Time to do other things?"

\- _Together, maybe._ \- They both think, but they just can't know.

"And...assuming that we try to do that, how should we proceed?" The angel asks him vaguely, but Crowley can't wipe the smirk off his face.

"Let's each find a candidate to give some power to that can make them helpful in our missions. As long as our bosses keep seeing their damn reports filled out, no one will ask questions."

Crowley anticipates Aziraphale's doubts. He knows him better than anyone else.

"Okay. I suppose there's nothing wrong with trying to guarantee a bit more protection and wellness for the human kind, is there?" the angel tries to convince himself.

"And neither is a bit of corruption and turmoil." Crowley adds.

"Okay, count me in." the blond stretches his hand and the demon shakes it more than willingly, sealing their deal. "Okay, now we just have to find these special people."

TBC

Oh c'mon who do you think it will be these special people? ;P  
Can you already imagine what is going to happen?

For those who already know 'Jessica Jones' , what do you think? Did I reshuffle the cards well enough? ^^'

I'm afraid I managed to give Kevin even worse parents than the ones he has in the series… and it wasn't' easy at all… poor, sweet kid!

I hope you'll like this alternative universe canon diverge where he's a brilliant (bullied) student of Psychology … I found it fitting ;)  
give him time and the Killgrave within him will surface… but, as I guess you can imagine, things will be very, very different this time ;)

About the Ineffable Husbands, you can set them in any universe or time and… they'll have mutual pining, always! XD

Feel free to tell me whatever you please, should I go on or should I quit because it's too crazy? ^^'


	2. I: Genie of the lamp (I)

Huge thanks to my precious beta redundant_angel 3

I don't know if someone is reading/liking this story, but here's the update.  
**  
**Summary: a tender moment between brothers, two 'important' supernatural meetings and… Crowley finally finds his protégé (guess who? LOL)

_Chapter I: Genie of the lamp_

London, Tower Hill Street, 14 March 2000__

"Angel, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Crowley grumbles into the receiver of a payphone. He'd been thinking of getting himself a cellphone, but he isn't sure he would want to deal with carrying around one of those bulky little boxes that humans bring with them wherever they go. Maybe within a few years, they'll become more functional and have a more appealing design. For now, Crowley thinks that dear, old, perfectly working phone booths are much better. After all Aziraphale has returned to his home near New York, and his phone number has remained unchanged.

Crowley regrets not managing to convince Aziraphale to stay with him for the night instead, but he's happy about the afternoon that they spent together.

"Sometimes I get the feeling that our bosses might be watching us. It's probably better to be transparent from the beginning so as to not make them suspicious." Aziraphale retorts, sitting by the desk as he sips white tea from his inseparable mug with the wings.

"I would have preferred not to say anything to anyone, but if that is what you want…" The demon shrugs. "When were you planning to go to your people?" 

"As soon as possible. I'll ask Gabriel and the others to meet me." 

"Then I'll do the same with Beelzebub and her gang."

\- _Maybe we can meet at the entrance?_ \- Crowley ponders.

-_ If we go at the same time, it's very probable that we can meet at the crossroads outside! _\- Aziraphale rejoices, before reminding to himself that he can't consider that a date.

Comstock, Chamberlin Farms LLC, County Route, 14 March 2000

Staring at the starry sky and the moon reflecting over the lake, while breathing the healthy air in the hills, Jessica tells herself that this trip, after all, isn't that bad. She goes back inside the tent that she is sharing with Phillip and she notices that her brother is engrossed in reading something.

\- _At least he's not using my video game_.- she ponders, before her curiosity takes over and she leans toward him.

Her eyes fall immediately on a picture of a stunning brunette with pin-up curves who is wearing very little.

"Alright, so now you're a fan of porn, are you? Just wait until I tell mom and dad about that!" She makes him jolt, using a threatening tone.

"You're always such a idiot! What porn? This is _Wonder Woman_!" the kid laughs at her.

"Who? The teenager frowns.

"Geez, Jess, where the heck do you live? Haven't you ever heard about her? She is the legendary Amazon Princess and, under the alter ego of _Diana Prince_ she decides to remain on Earth, helping the humans and fighting the villains!" He explains, visibly thrilled.

"Well, that's weird, I was sure you liked more male heroes, such as Batman or Superman…"

"Oh, please, those pompouses asses! Male superheroes are a bunch of idiots, swaggers. Superheroines are much better. Besides she has such cool powers: she has super strength, she is so clever, she can bear every kind of pain, she has a lasso that forces people to tell the truth and when she wants she can become invincible!" Her brother keeps his tale, skimming through the pages of his comic to display what he's talking about.

"Hey, you really like her! What about you, would you like to be a superhero?" Jessica asks him, intrigued.

Except for when he sleeps, there are very rare times when Jessica thinks her little brother is lovely. This is one of these few times.

"Well, I wouldn't be a pompous ass for sure, I would never grow tired of saving the world, without asking anything in exchange and I would have the most amazing costume ever!" He daydreams.

"I think that superhero costumes are just useless and stupid!" Jessica scoffs.

"Because you didn't see the one I plan to have… but even without being a superhero myself, I would like to be friends with someone who is a superhero, I would protect his or her identity, no matter what, and I would be so damn proud of him… or her." The kid beams at her.

"I'm sure that superhero or superheroine would be extremely grateful to have you as his or her friend." She smiles at him.

Paradise, Fourth Heaven , 15 March 2000

"... and that's why I assume it could be extremely useful to acquire some human beings that can help us to preserve the welfare and safety and the serenity of a quiet life." Aziraphale concludes the exposition of his idea - of course, it's Crowley's idea, but he can't reveal that to the archangels Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon.

They're staring at him in utter disbelief.

"You have a remarkable idea, Principality Aziraphale," Gabriel says with his typical mannerisms, followed by a hypocritical smile.

\- _That's it, play with your oh so precious humans while we think about very important matters, it's only a matter of few years, we're almost there_.- the sly archangel with purple eyes muses.

"Go ahead with that, we're impatient to see the results." Michael gives her approval, which is as phony as her colleague's.

"Oohh, I'm sure I won't let you down," the Principality gloats. "But, of course, I'll have to pick my protege very wisely. It's not something you can do lightly, and…"

"I'm sure you can pick wisely somewhere else?" Sandalphon says with a cold smile, urging Aziraphale to leave.

Aziraphale smiles at him the same way.

"Sandalphon is right, you've monopolized our time long enough," Uriel urges him with the same 'affability', showing him the exit. "You can go back to your earthly matters now."

************************** (In the meantime)

Hell, Fifth Circle, 15 March 2000

"So? Not even a weak 'wahoo'? Geez, you were more excited when I told you about the M25!" Crowley grumbles at the end of the meeting.

"Demon Crowley, for what it's worth, you may proceed with your project." Beelzebub states resonantly, although she's bored to death, rolling her eyes from the throne with the bones horns-shaped.  
"Other demons, go back to your work… if I had known before, I would have not asked you to come here for nothing," she adds, growing more and more irritated.

\- _'For nothing'? How rude. No one understands my genius! _\- Crowley retorts, his ego insulted.

"Crowley, Crowley, you're a constant letdown. You want to resort to using humans because you don't know how to act as a demon anymore, am I right?" mocks Hastur, one of the Dukes of Hell.

"You understood bloody well nothing about the explanation of my project, but what should I expect? Between you and your friend, I guess that the iguana Ligur has on his head is the one with the biggest brain!" Crowley laughs, scornfully.

"Hey, I said nothing against you!" Ligur, the other Duke of Hell, protests.

"Not yet, but you would." The snake demon strikes back.

"Sure I would, I hate you!" Ligur growls, challenging him with his look.

"So have you already found your protege?" Hastur asks Crowley, curious.

"Of course I have. With my skills and phenomenal intuition it was a piece of cake to find him. It's just a matter of a few days before you see him in action!" Crowley brags.

Truth is that he's just spectacularly bluffing. Demons adore blustering, even more among them. Crowley was so engrossed in explaining his idea that he had not even remotely thought about putting it into practice.

London, New Cross Road, 5 April 2000

Finding a protege was way more difficult than Crowley thought. During the last week, he strolled around _Soho_, _Elephant Castle_, _Victoria Station_, _Paddington_, _Piccadilly Circus _and many other areas'suburbs without finding anyone. Or rather, those places are crowded with ill-intentioned people, criminals of every kind, and violent boozers, but they're not who the stubborn demon is looking for.  
Crowley doesn't even know for sure what he's searching for, but he's fully aware he hasn't found it yet.

That morning he orders himself to take a break from searching and takes a walk through the quiet area of _New Cross_ to relax a bit. And that's where he feels it.  
A beautiful, almost intoxicating repressed rage, a dormant desire of revenge that is waiting to be unleashed. And Crowley craves to be the one who is going to set it free.

He tries to figure out where it's coming from and crosses the street. It leads him to a bench with a view on a rather bizarre building. Sitting with his back towards him, he finds the source of the call so irresistible to the demon.

It's a boy, probably a student. The boy seems to be fighting back tears as he tries to fix the pages of a few books that have been brutally glued with chewing gum. With painstaking care he manages to bring some of the pages back to their original splendor, but many others rip and tear as he pulls, only making him more frustrated. Crowley decides to intervene, finding any excuse to break the ice.

"Excuse me, do you know what that monument is all about?" The red-haired demon wonders, pointing at the strange sculpture at the side of the building.

"I don't know for sure, but I like imagining that they're the synapses in the brain," the student asks, without looking up.

Crowley is stunned by that particular answer, but even more but the boy's voice, so similar to his, save from the oh so British accent. Well, definitely too similar.

It must be the same thing the boy thinks, because he abruptly raises his gaze, meeting someone who somehow seems to be a more than twenty-year-older version of himself. After all, Crowley has never been younger than his forty-six years old as a human, but he has the feeling that if he ever had been twenty years old, he would have looked like this.

The brown-haired boy bursts out laughing, out of the blue. "Oh, c'mon. You can tell me! You must be an actor who Riley and his gang hired in order to scare the hell out of me!" The student hypothesizes, passing a hand through his messy hair.

"Who the heaven is Riley? And who are you? Wait, I got it, you must be one of Hastur's demonic miracles, in order to throw me off!" Crowley figures out, snapping his fingers in front of him more than once; but since he's a human being and not an optical illusion, the boy doesn't fade away.

"Who the hell is Hastur? Anyway, I'm Kevin and, geez, stop snapping your fingers in front of my face!" The human snorts.

Crowley is more and more fascinated.  
"So you're real. And you have got this wonderful, amazing rage. Besides, you look like me so damn much, it must be a sign."

"A sign of what? Are you going to tell me who the hell you are?" The other loses his patience.

(End part I)

_Next time you'll see the second part of the first meeting between Crowley and Kevin (with all its consequences, lol) and the first one between Aziraphale and Jessica.  
Hope you'll still like it.  
I also hope you liked the moment between Jessica and her Phillip and yep, Marvel mentioning DC, lol XD_

_For the ones who follows the Chistmas adventures of Jessica and Killgrave, stay tuned, I'm working on the new and last chapter of 'Stupid Traditions!' ;)_


	3. I: Genie of the lamp (II)

Huge thanks to my precious beta redundant_angel 3  
_  
Chapter I (II): Genie of the lamp  
_  
Since no one is in the nearby; Crowley can introduce himself properly.

"I'm Anthony J. Crowley, tempter demon, here to service you." Crowley removes his dark glasses as proof.

Seeing snake pupils in the middle of yellow irises, even bigger than his own dark brown eyes, Kevin startles so much that he drops all the books he kept on his lap.

"I'm dreaming," he mutters. 

"Nope, you are not; quite the contrary, I can say I'm here to free you from your nightmare!" Crowley chuckles, as he helps Kevin gather his books. "Well, well, '_Mindfulness'_, '_How to win friends and influence people_', '_How the mInd works_'..." the demons mumbles, eyeing at the titles. "We are a bit control freak, Kevin Thompson, aren't we?"

"Those are books for my exams and… hey, how do you know my name? I haven't told you yet!" Kevin notices.

"I could say 'you know, demon here, I can know anything, magic and blah blah blah', but the truth is that I read it on the first page of one of the books, where you wrote it," Crowley confesses and, despite the weird situation, the boy finds himself smiling. 

"I can't help but notice all the effort you put into fixing your books. You know, there's a friend of mine who cares about his books even more than you do," Crowley resumes talking again. "He would be better than me at doing this but I can give it a try." He snaps his fingers and all those return to their original and undamaged splendor.

Kevin beams at him. "I'm still not positive that I'm thinking straight and this is really happening…" 

"Who did that to your books? Want to talk about it?" Crowley spurs him.

Kevin doesn't know exactly how but it happens and he lets himself go, confessing to Crowley all the tyrannies and injustices he had to bear in all those years, not only by his schoolmates. It feels like he's talking with a dear old friend rather than a bizarre over the top demon.

\- _What would be the difference anyway? I've never had a true friend,_\- The boy ponders.

"Tell me, Kevin, would you like to make all those two-bit bullies pay for what they've done?" Crowley starts tempting him.

"How?" Kevin wonders, intrigued.

"I don't know. Just pretend I'm a genie of the lamp who can make only one wish come true. Which would it be?" 

"You know what? Everything is already so absurd that… okay, I'll play this game. My wish would be to control those idiots' minds," Kevin replies. "No, wait. Even better: I want to control _everyone's_ mind. I don't trust anyone anymore," he corrects himself, now with a darker expression. "Save from you, because you look like me, although you're a demon!" He chuckles. 

But Crowley is not laughing. He stares at the young human in deep silence, caressing his chin, thoughtfully. "Mind control, eh?" he muses. "Cool… charming… creative. I like that. It would also serve another purpose. It might even be better than what I originally had planned for you." The demon snaps his fingers, making Kevin's innermost desire come true.

"Have fun, young human, that power is all yours from now on!" Crowley says, before getting up and leaving Kevin sitting alone, dumbfounded. 

\- _I just have to stop studying so much if it brings such vivid hallucinations!-_

_-_

_New York, 461 Fifth Avenue, 5 April 2000_

The Jones family is on their way back from their umpteenth trip.  
The amicable feelings of some evenings ago now seems like a distant memory, and the usual disharmony between Jessica and Phillip has returned once more. So typical between brother and sister. They argue about everything, they spite each other and they don't even miss the chance to punch each other.  
Their mother seems to be resigned to their impossible behaviour, while their father keeps spurring them to behave in a more civilized way.

In order to focus better on his undisciplined sons, sometimes he loses sight of the road. It's a constant distraction that could have a price too high to pay. 

Not far from there, Aziraphale is taking a walk across _Park Ave_, one of the streets nearby. The angel has deemed his mission at Waterbury a success, so he thinks he deserves to spend an entire day as a tourist, with a very peculiar interest towards the most refined pastry shops of the town.

When he's done eating those scrumptious snacks, Aziraphale searches for a phone box. He dials a number he practically memorized. If he's lucky he'll find Crowley at home. It's late at night in London, but that has never been a problem for him.

Aziraphale is much more than lucky. Crowley immediately picks the call up, without even resorting to the answering machine.

"Is it you?" Crowley murmurs.

"Well, it depends, define 'you'," The blond wavers from the other side of the receiver.

"You've just done." The redhead smiles. "So, how is your mission going?" he asks Aziraphale curiously, sitting in a messy way on his golden and red chair, a sort of throne.

"Oh, extremely good, thank you. Not only have I prevented those lost sheep from desecrating that church, but I was so convincing that they decided to become altar boys!" Aziraphale giggles, making his millennial friend giggle as well. "Oops, am I boasting too much?" He examines his conscience one minute after. 

"I like you a little vain…" The other whispers.

\- _Who am I kidding? I always like you, in any way!_"

"I'm so glad you called me, angel, otherwise I would have looked for you. I've found the perfect candidate, just today. Can't wait to see him in action!" The demon gloats, recalling his meeting during that morning.

"Oh, well.. good for you… or bad for you, how do you demons say that?" Aziraphale grumbles in confusion, making Crowley laugh. 

"The first expression works for us demons, too!" He confirms. "What about you? How are things going?" 

"There were so many nurses, firemen, aid workers, boy scouts, but I'm afraid I haven't found anyone yet…"

A very loud noise interrupts their conversation.

"What's going on, angel?" Crowley wonders, concerned. 

"Oh no, I just saw a horrible accident nearby, I… have to go!" Aziraphale ran off, leaving the receiver hanging from the phone box, no matter if Crowley keeps calling him out, uselessly. 

The closer Aziraphale gets to the accident, the louder he hears a desperate cry.

_I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. i don't wanna die._

Aziraphale becomes invisible and makes his way through the crowd of curious people who stopped or got out of their cars to stare at that scene.

Probably the driver of that car lost control, crashing violently, in a macabre scenario of broken glasses and blood. Inside the car there is a family, and it seems that there's nothing to do anymore for any of them. Looking better at the back seats, Aziraphale still manages to sense a weak, feeble hint of life. 

_I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die_

It's the elder of the two sons to emit it, together with that strong plead.

A teenage girl, who is coming into womanhood, has wounds on many parts of her body, she's lying unconscious, but still with that persistent desire to live.

And like a genie of the lamp, Aziraphale craves to grant that wish for her.

"You won't die, little dear," he murmurs, snapping his fingers. For a fragment of a second, the teenage girl pops her eyes open and Aziraphale has the feeling she is watching him, but it's practically impossible.

The emergency services arrive in time and although he's still invisible, the angel follows her to the hospital, to the intensive care. While she's connected to several medical machines with a restorative I.V. drip in her arm and waiting for the doctor, Aziraphale observes her some more. 

There's something special about that teenage girl, apparently so similar to thousands ones of her same age.

\- _If she is so willing to live, maybe she would be as willing as well to protect other people's lives, if I gave her the proper tools to do that…_ \- He ponders, approaching cautiously to her.

Once again, the young girl stirs and opens her big hazel/green eyes, and once again it seems that she's just staring at him.

"Can you… can you see me?" Aziraphale asks her, stunned. 

The young girl can't speak a word yet, but she manages to nod with her head.

But it's still such a big effort for her body to bear, so she passes out again, exhausted, but alive.

No human being in six thousand years has ever managed to see Aziraphale while he was invisible.. There must be a very strong bond between them. 

\- _This must be a sign._ \- Aziraphale muses. 

He was certain that he would give his gift to an adult; a serious, responsible, selfless and generous adult… instead he's taking the case with a teenage girl and he doesn't even know how he'll deal with her and how she is going to react. 

And yet he feels like he couldn't have made a better choice than that. The decision is made and the angel's fingers snap, with all the consequences.

"My sweet, oh-so-young girl, you still have no idea how many good things you're going to do!" He whispers languidly to her, caressing her long, black hair before leaving the room.

TBC

_From Marvel' files it seems that the Jones' accident takes place in April 2000 and I wanted to stay true to the series as much as possible... too bad I'm going to change everything later, lol._

_Guess what? Those books exist for real._

_Which meeting did you enjoy the most? Oh well, I guess the one with both could talk, lol XD_

_Is it okay if I split the chapters in order to be quicker with the updates or you wish longer chapters?_

_I really hope you'll like it, because it's only the beginning..._


	4. II: Some itches to scratch (i)

Huge thanks to my precious beta redundant_angel 3  
_  
_

Capitolo II I: Some itches to scratch

New York, Metro-General Hospital, 5 April 2000

As he lets the dedicated machinery and the professional equipment do their job, Aziraphale makes himself visible again, in order to use one of the hospital phones.  
He doesn't have to wait for long, because Crowley picks his call up at the first ring.

"Angel, are you okay? You abandoned me before, in the middle of the conversation," he exclaims, nervous, before concentrating for one moment in deep silence. "But… you're calling me from an hospital! Did something bad happen?" he grows even more nervous.  
"Crowley, dear, breathe." the angel tries to calm him down. "But mostly don't do demonic miracles to localize my calls!" he snaps.  
"Would you tell me why you are in a hospital?"  
"It's not for me, I'm more than fine, it's for that accident. I ran there and, oh, Crowley, I've found my special person, too," he informs the demon.

Aziraphale glances at the girl's room where lots of people keep coming and going.

"Oh, that's great! Tell me, does your special person look like you?" Crowley asks him, curious.  
"Huh, well, nope, I definitely do not believe to have anything in common, neither in the physical aspect nor in the attitude with a teenage girl, who must be as restless as all teenagers are," Aziraphale grumbles, a little dumbfounded.

"Ngk! Nope, I don't think it's the same case, then. That's odd, you know what? My protégée resembles me like a drop of water… if I was twenty years old, more or less, I would be his same, exact copy. And about his attitude, oh, I have the feeling he's going to make me so proud of him!" the demon informs him.  
"Oh, I'm so curious to see what you looked like as a twenty-year-old human," escapes from Aziraphale's mouth.

"Do you want to have a quick glance? Reach me here in London, he's been studying here," the other urges him.  
"No, I can't. Firstly, I want to be here when my protégée opens her eyes again..She was the one in the accident. At the beginning I've miracled her to prevent her from dying, but then… I don't know, I felt something that told me she had to be my chosen one.  
That's why I decided to give her the power of…" Aziraphale goes on with his tale, but stops before it's too late. "No, wait, the less we know about each other's missions, the better. That's why I shouldn't see your protégée, nor should you see mine. Besides, it would be desiderable those two to never meet each other." the blond grows worried.  
"You're right, they could influence each other, yeah…" the redhead tries to get along with him, but the truth is that he doesn't see why that would be a big deal.

"However, angel, once you've taken proper care of your protégée, save for our business with our candidates, we can meet, can't we?" the demon asks him, his tone of voice turning languid.  
"Sure we can, dear. I miss the walks, I miss feeding the ducks. I miss _St. James'_ park, and my bookshop…"

\- _And me? Don't you miss me, angel? We haven't seen each other for almost a month…_ \- Crowley muses, making a bottle of red wine appear in order to outweigh his nostalgia.

"Dear, I must go now, there is way too much traffic in my protégée's room." Aziraphale says with concern. "But I'll see you soon, maybe when we have to make the progress reports." Aziraphale heartens him with his promise, before hanging up.

\- _Something like 'Day number ten: the demonic applicant made seven subjects sin. The angelic applicant rescued six people. And I miss you, Crowley, much more than crepes!' That's what I call a sincere progress report. See the effect you have on me? I let you win even in the fake progress report I hypothesize!_ \- Aziraphale loses himself in his thoughts.

He decides to turn invisible again in order to reach more easily the very crowded room where his protégée is resting.

\- _Are there cameras here?_ \- he notices, puzzled, wondering who that elegant, blonde woman who seems no more older than thirty is.

There's also a pretty teenage girl with red hair and the photographers keep framing her the most.

"And that's why I, Dorothy Walker, and my daughter Patsy, have decided to take good care of this poor little girl's misfortune. She has just lost her family, but now she has just found a new one," the blonde woman declares to the cameras and the recording tapes. She keeps smiling at every camera that's filming her.

Aziraphale casts the woman a touched look.

_-It's beautiful to know that humanity can still rely on such generous and selfless people_.- he muses, pleased.

Bit by bit, all the television crew and the journalists leave the room, eager to write that juicy scoop.  
"It's wonderful, Mom, I'm going to have a sister!" the young girl with red hair rejoices.

So far she has kept silent.

Aziraphale beams, even more enthused.

"My darling, that little girl is not your sister. You should see her more as a clear path to even more success!" the mother says with a fake sugary tone and an evil smile. "Do you have the slightest idea of the impact this news will have on you? This thing will get your face out there and improve your image by leaps and bounds!" she goes on, like the cold, scheming opportunist she really is.

Aziraphale can't believe his ears.

"I don't want stupid advertising, I want a friend, she'll be my friend!" the girl insists.

"Honey, please don't grow so affectionate over that gross beggar, she'll never be your equal!" Mrs Walker tries to make her daughter see reason. "As soon as I saw the news of that catastrophic accident, I rushed here, guessing it was the right hospital and I wasn't wrong. We're so lucky that she's an orphan now, so we can adopt her and give the media something to talk about for a long, long time!"

"Mom!" Patsy, whose real name is Patricia, yells at her mother, glaring at her with all the disdain she can muster. "Aren't you ashamed for even thinking such awful things?"

Her mother's slap came punctual on her now reddened and aching cheek.

"Ingrate! How dare you to talk to your mother like that?" the woman strikes back, venomously.

Even an angel's patience has a limit and she's already crossed it.

\- _Oh, for heaven's sake! What a horrible, horrible person!_\- he thinks, planning his revenge.  
\- _Revenge for fooling me so badly about the kindness of human beings_.-

A snap of his fingers and suddenly the five-inch heel of the woman's right shoe is broken.

"What the fu…?" Dorothy snaps.

In the attempt of checking her heel, she bends over and for some reason, her skirt rips in the back side, leaving a visible hole.  
Not satisfied yet, Aziraphale snaps his fingers again and, while she limps towards the nearest bathroom, a clumsy nurse is walking towards them, holding the trays she has to take to the kitchen.  
She is walking so fast that she just can't stop in time, as a result she crashes against the elegant woman, pouring over her the rest of the soups, some mashed potatoes and some pieces of stewed fish.

"Look what a disaster! You useless incompetent!" Dorothy roars, so frustrated she could break down and cry at any moment.

Patricia can't suppress a laugh, hidden from her mother.

There's still something missing and the angel gets it with the umpteenth snap of his fingers.

Knocking at the door that leads to the corridor, before opening it, a reporter comes back.

"Excuse me, Mrs Walker, I forgot to ask if you…"

Seeing her in those deprecable conditions, the reporter doesn't waste time and frames her in his pictures. Maybe he can write an article that proves to be even more interesting than the former planned one.

"Hey, you damned idiot, wait! Where do you think you're going with those pictures?" a limping and furious Dorothy races after the reporter, trying to stop him.

-_ Very well. I had some itches to scratch, now that's better._\- Aziraphale muses. - _Crowley would be so proud of me_ \- he smirks. -_Which is not something I should be happy for_. - he blames himself.

"Mrs Walker, please come…" one of the doctors who are visiting Jessica calls for the woman, but then she stops and takes a look around, clueless. "Where did your mother go? Are you alone here?" she interrogates the only visible person in that corridor.

"Yes… do I have to go away?" Patricia asks her, fearful.

"Quite the contrary, dear, I want you to come in. She has just awaken We were sure it was an irreversible coma, but...there was a miraculous recovery!" the doctor grins.

Hearing that adjective, Aziraphale smiles proudly.

"But this is such fantastic news!" Patricia Rejoices, as the doctor shows her the way.  
Obviously, Aziraphale follows them.

Jessica is still linked to the medical machinery, although now they're pretty useless, but she is sitting up on her bed, taking a look around in deep confusion.

She can't figure out what she's doing in a hospital.

The hell with being sick, she feels she's as strong as ten lions!

"How do you feel, Jessica?" the Doctor asks her.

\- _Jessica, that's your name_. - Aziraphale registers that precious info.

"A little dizzy…" the young brunette replies, touching her head and noticing it's bandaged. "Who are you?" she asks the girl of her same age.

"Have you never seen me before? Don't you know the 'It's Patsy!' show?" the redhead asks her, stunned.

"I'm thirteen years old, not eight!" Jessica strikes back way too rudely, but she seems to realise it. "Sorry." she adds, immediately after, with a softer tone.

Patricia shakes her head, smiling at her.

"Don't worry, it's more than normal. You still must be in shock" she answers, quietly. "You know what? It's like breathing fresh air to talk with someone who doesn't know me. I'm Patricia.=," she grins affably.

"Patricia. Tricia. Trish. Can I call you Trish?"

The former child prodigy beams enlightened.

"Trish. I like it. I like it a lot."

(End part I)

Notes:

I know, I know no Kevin this time, you'll see him in the next part, along with Crowley and a bit more of Jessica and Aziraphale ;)  
Hope you'll like it , pleeease, let me know, it would mean the world to me since it's going to be a looong journey and kudos and comments are my fuel 3


	5. II: Some itches to scratch (II)

Chapter 5: II II: Some itches to scratch Summary:

Jessica receives terrible news. Kevin learns a thing or two about his powers.

Notes:

Huge thanks to my precious beta redundant_angel 3

and thank youuu all for reading,

**Capitolo II (II): Some itches to scratch**

"I'm Jessica, Jess, if you prefer." The brunette shakes the blonde's hand quickly. "Where's the rest of my family? They are all alright, aren't they? This room wasn't large enough, so the doctors took them to another one, right?"

Trish's silence and the doctor's sorrowful look are the most eloquent and terrible answer for the girl.

"No…" she rests her hand on the bed rail made of steel.

Her tears are already running down her face.

"Noooo." she repeats, shaking her head, as if she wanted to get rid of that shocking news, of that awful reality, as she strengthens her hold on the bed rail.

"NO!" she screams at the top of her lungs, with all the rage she's feeling, tearing up the bed rail as if it was made of foam rubber.

She lets it fall on the floor, bewildered.

Aziraphale didn't miss a single instant of that scene.

\- Here's a sneak preview of your powers, my darling.-

"Geez, what kind of hospital is this if you have such old, rotten and cheap stuff?" Trish snaps at the doctor, just before she rushes to hug that girl she already considers her friend and soon she can call 'sister'.

"But… those beds are brand new…" the doctor mutters to herself, taking a mental note to report that complaint.

"Excuse me, let me in. What did I miss?" Dorothy makes her entrance, now as fresh as new. "See, Patricia, how is it essential to always have a change of clothes in the trunk of your car?" she explains, now feeling at ease again.

There are still traces of mashed potatoes in her hair, but no one dares to warn her about that.

Still sobbing, Jessica parts from Trish's hug, to stare at the woman in confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

And that's when Jessica finally focuses also on another presence in that room.

"You?! Again? What are you doing here? What do you want from me?" she snaps at Aziraphale, who stares at her stunned, but for all the other people in the room she's just watching an empty spot.

"It's evident that the patient is still deeply shocked, she needs some rest, absolutely. Those were too many emotions at once for her," the doctor states, making sure that everyone leaves the room.

Even Aziraphale decides to leave, still impressed by Jessica's capability of detecting him.

\- Not now, dear girl, but we're going to meet soon, in a more conventional way.- he decides, disappearing.

London, Goldsmiths University, 6 April 2000

Still feeling dazed after that oh-so-peculiar meeting with Crowley, which he decided was likely a hallucination due to the intense study and stress of school, Kevin had taken shelter in his dorm room all the previous day long, in order to avoid dealing with any sort of social interaction.

That morning, he is oddly in a very good mood, maybe due to the long night of rest, or maybe because of the sunny day outside, typical for the beginning of Spring, or maybe because for some reason he feels that that is going to be his lucky day.

And he stays in a fantastic mood, at least for the three hours he spends studying in the library.  
He has already decided that he has just imagined the chewing gum in his books the previous day, also because there seems to be no trace left of that sick prank.

The suspected author of that trickery rushes towards him in the corridor with his bully crew as soon as Kevin leaves the library.

"Hello, Family-less, are you trying to make the books adopt you? Maybe that's the reason you and your books are so inseparable!" Riley scoffs as his bully friends laugh.

"Adopted by my book. Ah-ah. Very funny, yes." Kevin rolls his eyes, hoping that torture will end soon.

\- Maybe if I go along with him, he will grow tired and let me pass… - he ponders.

"Smile, you, nothing but a bookworm. Today I'm not going to touch even a page of your precious books." The bully pretends to hearten him with that news, but Kevin already knows what it actually means.

He has already been through that.

"Today I'm going to hit you, directly. Let's see if with a black eye or with a broken tooth you'll still be the teachers' pet!" Riley scoffs, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to show his watch with a steel quadrant.

Kevin remembers that watch painfully well, the last time Riley used it on him, he punched his stomach so hard it took him whole days to recover.

At least it was a hidden zone, now the bastard is aiming at his face.

"You should eat that bloody watch!" Kevin snarls, exasperated, before closing his eyes and getting ready for the worst.

Not only does that punch never arrive, but he can hear Riley's friends' shocked and puzzled voices.

"Riley… what the hell are you doing? Are you nuts?"

Opening his eyes, Kevin realises that Riley has taken his watch off and is biting into the leather strap, chewing a piece of it as if it was liquorice.

That scene draws many curious people's attention who are crowding the corridor.

"There's nothing to see here!" Kevin warns them all, but he figures out too late that he has just made things worse.

"I can't see anything anymore!"  
"Oh gosh, my eyes!"  
"I've lost my sight!"  
"Why is everything so dark?"  
"Hey, who turned out the lights?"

These are some of the frightened students' reactions who keep bumping into things and other people.

First the bully is eating his watch.  
Now people who can't see anything anymore.

\- That's exactly what I said. My specific words. People do what I tell them to do. I'm controlling their minds. So, it means that yesterday…-

Kevin doesn't even have the time to finish his thoughts when a voice, very similar to his, gives him that confirmation.

"That's right, my boy," Crowley exclaims, appearing in front of him. "Take a mental note for next time: if a demon who looks like a twenty years' older version of you gives you a mental power, believe everything he says to you!" he smirks.

They can talk freely, for a simple reason that Kevin immediately notices.

"You… you freezed the time!" he exclaims, taking a look around and seeing everyone standing perfectly still and silent, utterly unaware of what's going on.

"Well, yeah, that's one of my tricks!" Crowley shrugs as if it was nothing important. "I admit that it was my mistake. I left you without even giving you any directions for how to use your powers," he adds, leaning against a closet. "Yep, Kevin Thompson, you can really control every human being's mind, which means not mine, in case you were thinking about it."

"I would never dare!" Kevin rushes to swear.

"Liar. I know you would love to. But I like it!" Crowley giggles, before going back to his list of rules and explanations. "The influence you can have on people lasts twelve hours if you don't stop them before. To give you a limitless power would be too risky and problematic."

"Crowley, what… what did you do to me? Isn't there any chance that you could take it back and make me normal again?" Kevin asks him, still in full shock.

\- And for what? To go back to my squalid existence?-

"Everything is possible, also because you haven't signed the contract with your blood yet ...naah, who am I kidding? There's no contract to sign. Plus, who the heaven does want blood anymore? Humans invented Montblanc!" Crowley laughs, making even his young listener laugh as well. "Okay, now I'm serious again. Yes, if you want it, I can take it back."

\- Although I really hope I have not to … where else could I find such a perfect candidate as you?-

"But, tell me, Kevin, do you really want to get rid of this power?" he asks him, happy when he sees a creepy smile on the young student's features.

"Nope, I do not want that. Plus, twelve hours is a lot of time," Kevin reveals, pleasing the demon.

\- I could make stupid Riley eat a whole watch factory in twelve hours! - he muses, amused.

"I really hoped to hear such an answer from you." The demon smiles, lowering his dark glasses to wink at him. "About the Hell issue, let me clear a couple of things. You humans have such a distorted idea of it. To begin with, you're facing no soul sale… maybe just a tiny competitive bidding!" he makes the boy smile again. "I gave you that power for a reason, that's true. I need you to do some things for me."

"What kind of things?" Kevin wonders, afraid that there could be a too high price to pay.

"Evil deeds. You have to make people do that. I'm not asking you to kill or make people kill themselves or someone else, I'm just asking for small stuff. Riots, a bit of violence, robbery, stealing… oh, right, adultery would definitely make me score. Stuff like that, you know. Besides, I'm positively confident in your creative talent. Do you think you can do that?" Crowley asks him.

"Yep, sure. Sounds like much fun." Kevin sneers.

"Oh, trust me, it will be." Crowley sneers. "Well, it doesn't mean that you can't resort to your power for personal use. Quite the contrary, I liked what you were doing, please, go on. Get ready, I'm about to unfreeze the time, but now I'm sure you know what to do. If you ever need me, just call me out and I'll be there," he waves his hand bye, disappearing with a snap of his fingers.

An instant later time is flowing again, normally.  
The only difference is that now Kevin knows what to do.

"Everyone, you can see again. Save for Riley, you can leave, you will believe this was a very well planned prank."

Everyone does as they've been told, leaving him alone with Riley.

The bully is keeping tearing out pieces of his strap and chewing them, before gulping them down.

At first Kevin seems to consider stopping him, but then he recalls all the humiliations and the abuses during those years.

\- There's no rush, after all. Maybe I can wait until he eats half the strap… and it he gets a bowel obstruction, well… it won't be my fault.-

Plenty satisfied, he observes his tormentor obeying his order, but it's only the beginning.

Kevin still has some itches to scratch.

TBC

Notes:

I really, really, REALLY hope you'll like it, because lots of stuff still has to happen.  
Please, let me know whatever you think ^^'


	6. III: Born to do that (I)

Capitolo III (I): Born to do that Summary:

Kevin pays a visit to his parents, Jessica figures out someone is watching her.

Notes:

Huge thanks to my precious beta redundant_angel 3

and thank youuu all for reading, for kudos, comments, even from facebooks, aww you're lovely 3

Okay, let me warn you about the middle part of this chapter: this is angst, you might need a tissue ;'(

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

****

**Chapter III (I): Born to do that**

Cheltenham, Pittville Circus Rd, 9 April 2000

For the next three days, Kevin worked on getting better acquainted with his new powers.

He made Riley walk through the corridors with his trousers lowered at his ankles and, for the grand finale, made him drop even his boxers in the classroom as the professor came in, which earned Riley a solemn month's suspension.

Kevin used his powers to start a riot during a break among all of Riley's friends which brought (literally) bloody results and further disciplinary action.

He also made the most popular couple in the whole University break up, not because those two had ever done anything bad to him but just for the challenge.  
It's also true that Kevin brought them back together the very next day, because… he is not that evil, after all.

Crowley praised Kevin for everything: the humiliation, the public indecency, the violence, the love breakups… all things that his people in Hell enjoy a lot.

Crowley appeared to him in every of those school days, making himself invisible to anyone but Kevin.  
The only thing criticism Crowley gave Kevin was about how quickly he repaired the damaged relationship between his fellow students, but as soon the demon saw Georgia and David he agreed with Kevin that those two were way too lovely couple to tear them apart for any longer. With a snap of his finger, Crowley assured that no one else would separate them ever again. It's the sort of thing that his bosses could hardly verify.

Kevin told Crowley that he needed to go out of town for at least one day, without giving him further explanation, and asked the demon not to follow him. For this occasion, the boy preferred to be alone.

That's why now he's inside a taxi that is about to take him to his destination, the driver just has to turn right.  
The place he is going is two and a half hours by car from his dorm.  
But the kilometric distance is nothing compared to the sentimental one.  
Kevin has decided to pay a visit to his parents, whom he hasn't seen since… he doesn't even recall when.

"We're here, boy " the driver informs him.

Another occasion for Kevin to perform his power.

"Set the mileage to zero. You're glad to have brought me here and you'll wait for me until this evening," he orders, calmly.

The man pushes the buttons on his display, setting the previous import of three numbers to zero.  
"Sure, boy, I'll wait for you right here. No problem at all," he replies, docile.

Kevin steps out of the taxi and walks toward the country house where his parents live.

\- _I don't like to be called 'boy', even less than 'Mr Thompson'. And it's not that I allow anyone to call me Kevin either… I should find myself a more impressive name… but it's not the proper time to think about it,_ \- he muses, as he walks down a street that awakens memories from long ago.

Everything has remained unchanged, from the lawn, so perfectly cut, to the hedge that coasts it, from the sloping roof to the balcony with exposed brick.

Kevin crosses the lawn, observing all that green area, the most suitable spot for a swing, a rocking horse or for every other outdoor game. But this place or rather that family has never been tailor-made for children.

He glances at the veranda to see if someone is there, but he's not that lucky.

\- _They must be inside. Knowing them as I sadly know them… working, probably.-_

He reaches the white front door and rings the doorbell quite insistently.

It takes several minutes before someone comes to open the door, and when it happens a tall, severe figure, with gray hair stands in front of him, his expression even darker after he narrows his eyes.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here? We've already sent you the money for tuition and the rent," the owner of that house hisses, his tone cut-and-dry.

"Hello to you, too, dad, and yes I'm fine, thanks for asking. After all, we haven't seen each other in … two, maybe three years?" Kevin's expression is as dark as his father's, if not darker.

And, of course, he called him 'dad' with pure sarcasm.

"Go away, Kevin, I have no time for you now!"

Kevin bursts out laughing, disdainful.

"You haven't had any time for me for twenty-three fucking years!"

He realizes that if he wants to shake things up, unfortunately the only chance is to resort to his powers.

\- _Anything to make such hostile expression change.-_

"Now let me in and be a pleasant host."

Host. Not even when he gives him a command Kevin manages to call that person 'father'.

He's not so surprised when he sees his father's mood change.

"Of course, my dear, you're my guest. Can I offer you anything?" the fifty years old man asks him affably, gesturing for Kevin to come inside.

\- _Yeah, you could offer me the family I've never had, but I guess it's a tad late for this._ \- Kevin sadly muses, shaking his head with disdain.

"Louise, honey, come and see who has just paid us a visit!" Albert calls to his wife

.A sophisticated blonde woman in her mid forties walks into the room, still wearing her lab coat, her expression one of confusion.

For a moment, just for a single moment, Kevin catches a glimpse in her eyes, an almost imperceptible look of happiness at seeing her son, but it's immediately replaced by merciless chill.

"You show up here and you didn't even bother to warn us beforehand," she remarks, venomously.

"Louise, don't be so rude!" her husband reproaches her, stunning the woman.

"Albert! What's wrong with you?" she snaps.

"The same thing that's about to be wrong with you. You are happy to see your son, that's all," Kevin explains quietly, although he feels like he might break down and cry.

"Of course I'm happy to see you, honey," his mother smiles at him.

"Then hug me. Both of you," the boy urges them, and they obey.

Kevin enjoys every single second of that hug, although he's utterly aware that there's nothing authentic to it at all.

"I'm your son. Hell, I'm your only fucking son and I had to ask for a bloody hug. No, wait, it's even worse...I had to order you to do such a thing!" Kevin breaks away from the hug. "Reflect about how pathetic it is."

"Kevin, I…" his mother hazards, but no matter what she's trying to say, Kevin doesn't allow her to go on.

"No. Shut up. Both of you. Sit down."

The two adults do as they're told and Kevin sits on the couch, in front of them.

"Why?" he asks his parents.

"Why what?" his father asks him, puzzled.

"Oh, please, you perfectly know what!" Kevin hisses. "Why was I born? Why did you bring me into this world if you didn't even remotely plan to become parents? He puts the squeeze on them. "Tell me!"

"Louise was pregnant, it wasn't expected, it wasn't planned."

It hurts Kevin a lot to hear so blatantly that he never was desired, but he keeps listening to them.

"That's right, but we are against abortion, that's why we kept you," Louise explains.

Kevin gets up from the couch, clapping at them derisively.

"Congrats, very good. So, is this your way to clear your conscience with the Creator, or whoever rules this bloody world, like two good and proper Catholic people?"

"Don't you dare talk to us this way, Kevin!" his father snaps, ready to get up from his armchair.

"No! I said sit down and keep silent!" Kevin sets him straight. "And you must do the same, too." he anticipates every possible reaction from his mother.

"Just let me see if I've got it straight. You are against abortion, but not against the possibility of condemning a child to a whole life without affection, without self-confidence, without a touchstone? I spent my whole life as a postal package, wondering what was wrong in me, why the other kids had lovely parents while I barely had a blurry shadow of a family."

Just like ordered, Louise doesn't say anything, but from her eyes some silent tears fall down.  
At least this is not something Kevin prevented her from doing and he definitely notices.

But he's not impressed at all.

\- _She's crying only because she fears for herself, surely not out of guilt. She had twenty-three years to feel guilty!_-

"Do you have the slightest idea of what impact this has had on me? Oh, sure, you told me you never made me miss anything: the best schools, the best education, the best discipline… but, fresh news, I missed the warmth of a loving home. I've just known the walls of a house around me and a roof over my head, but, trust me, this is not the same bloody thing!" he points out. "Now you both can resume being… just you."

"How do you dare to come into my house without warning and behave like this?" his father yells, and probably would have attacked him physically with a loaded blow if Kevin didn't stop him.

"Slap yourself on your face and then stand still."

Albert does as he's been told.

"Kevin… why are you doing this? And why do we keep obeying you, as if we have no choice? What… what happened to you?" his mother wonders apprehensively, but she stays still, sitting down.

"What happened? I'll tell you what, as I thought I was wrong, someone else found me right and gave me a wonderful gift," Kevin sneers. "You know what? Let's go out. Let's take a walk somewhere, as a real family. Give me the illusion, just for one day. Give me some of your oh-so-precious time," he suggests. "In exchange, I'm going to give you a lot of free time."

"What do you mean?" Albert frowns.

"When we are back from our happy family trip, I'll go away and you'll set on fire your lab, your research, and all of the files in your computers. All the job of your whole life. Nothing will remain and you'll restart from zero. And you'll never figure out you're the ones who did that." Kevin announces.

"You can't do that!" Albert snarls.

"You're a monster!" Louise hisses, venomously.

Kevin just shrugs. They can't impress upon him anymore, they can't make him care anymore.

"Hell yeah I can, and I'm going to. But I won't ask you to remain in the lab while it burns, although you would deserve that. Why those angry faces, by the way? And you'll be happy when you obey me. Now, smile!"

They beam. Kevin decides that he could easily get used to this.

-

Once they're back from their happy fake family trip, Kevin waits until he sees the first flames coming out the open window in the lab.

Extremely pleased, he goes back to the taxi, where he finds the driver in rough shape.

"Y-you're b-back..fi-finally," the man says, glad to see him as he holds his stomach in pain.

That's when Kevin figures out what has happened: he left late in the morning and came back at sunset, and the taxi driver has been waiting for him for seven long hours.

"That's true, I told you to wait for me here, but I didn't mean that you couldn't even move, I just needed you not to leave with the car… you're free to go out, do what you need to do!" he sets him free from that mental captivity.  
"Than… thank you, boy." The driver rushes outside, relieved.

Kevin takes advantage of his absence to reflect.

\- _I need to pay more attention when I order something, I don't have to slip… but mostly I have to find myself a new name. I can't stand 'boy.' I need something new. Killtime? Naaaaaah, I can do much better. Killjoy? Too depressing. Kill… Killgrave. Yes. So bombastic. I like it_. -

-

New York, Columbus Ave, 10 April 2000

Jessica has been discharged from the hospital  
Usually a diagnosis like hers would request at least two weeks of convalescence under strict medical control, but all the doctors have agreed that after such miraculous healing it would have been only a torture to keep such a young and surprisingly healthy girl locked inside a hospital.

It has been more than four days since Jessica started strolling around the Walker's gigantic house in the Upper West Side, one of the most prestigious New York districts.  
There were so many rooms inside the house, she quickly lost count and she can barely maintain her sense of direction.

Anyway, this is not the only problem she's having and surely not the most serious one.  
Since the day she woke up in the hospital, Jessica figured out that there's something weird going on within herself. The first warning had been when she eradicated the bar from the bed as if it were made of paper. Furthermore, as she combed her hair, she disentangled a knot in her hair far too energetically and the brush completely split in two.

The day after, she tried to open a jar … and smashed it into thousands of pieces.  
And she knows she had never been that strong.  
The third day after leaving the hospital she wanted to prove something to herself and lifted her desk, finding it entirely too easily.  
The fourth day Jessica raised the bar trying to lift the king-size bed. To her, it has been like lifting a pencil.

Trish popped to her room just in that moment and there had been no way to hide it.

That's what they have still been talking about during that fifth day.

"I've already told you to forget what you saw, Trish. I'll try to control it the best I can. Maybe it's just a collateral effect of the IV drip I had," Jessica shrugs.

"The hell with the drip!" Trish incites her with a wave of her arms. "You have a gift, Jessica. It's something beautiful. You should show it to the whole world. You can save lives. You can make the difference."

And that's when Jessica notices Trish's umpteenth bruise.

"Dorothy did that again, didn't she? When did it happen? I'm going to show you how I can save people. I'm going to shove a cupboard against her!" the brunette growls, ready to go, but the redhead - her mother still forces Trish to wear that wig although she's blonde, just to keep her in character - grabs her arm.

"No. You can save anyone but me. I don't need to be saved. I can deal with her," Trish insists.

Jessica listens to her, but in the meantime she's noticed a pair of brown shoes with tartan socks behind the curtain.  
In a fury, Jessica rushes in that direction, but when she pulls the curtain back she finds nothing behind it.

"Jess, are you okay?" her new sister questions her, puzzled.

"Maybe it was my imagination," Jessica grumbles. "Anyway, this is the last abuse I'm going to bear from your mother. If she still dares to hurt you again, I swear that I'm going to…"

She stops her sentence, glancing at someone outside the window, someone who is observing her from the street.  
Someone who has been obsessing over her for five days.

(End part I)

Notes:

I know, I know, not much Crowley and Aziraphale in that part, but you're going to see them in the second one.  
Usually I don't ask for feedback very insistently but this was such an emotional chapter so hard to write that I would really really really like to know what you think of it.  
I don't like Kevin's parents in 'Jessica Jones' at all, but, dammit, I guess I managed to give him even worst parents in this alternative story.


	7. III: Born to do that (II)

**Capitolo III (II): Born to do that**

Jessica doesn't think with lucidity; she wants to reach the street and the fastest way down is to open that window and jump… even if they are on the second floor. Another of the capabilities she gained, about following her instincts without a second thought, well, she has been doing that since she was born.

"Oh my God! Jessica!" Trish screams, seeing her jump, but she is even more surprised than Jessica when she sees her land perfectly, without any difficulty, unharmed. 

Without losing time, Jessica rushes towards that mysterious figure that has now made himself material and seems to expect her arrival.  
Okay, maybe he didn't expect to be lifted by the collar of his coat and smashed against a wall.

"Who the fuck are you? Why are you persecuting me? Are you involved with these strange powers I have, aren't you?" the handsy girl questions him.

"Let's try to calm down for a moment, my darling," he spurs her, but with a hand she pushes him flat against the wall, as her free hand turns into a fist.

"You were there even the day of the accident. You caused that, didn't you, you bastard?" she growls, ready to hit him, but much to her surprise the stranger stops her blow easily, without even using all his strength, which is greater than hers.

"Just like I was saying, you'd better calm down, darling, and then maybe we can talk about this in front of a nice cup of tea," he suggests, freeing her hand.

"I hate tea," the teenager grimaces, forgetting for a moment the absurd situation, as she loosens her grip.

"What about chocolate?" He smiles affably at her. "It would be extremely inappropriate if you discorporated me, I'm afraid such a thing could put both of us in trouble, my dear Jessica," he explains, fixing his collar.

"Discor… what? How the hell you know my name? Who the hell are you?" Jessica loses her patience.

"Okay, we are off to a bad start, my dear. I'm as far from hell as I can be. I'm Aziraphale, I am an angel, a Principality, for six thousand years, I used to be the Guardian of the Eastern Gate too, a little before," he introduces himself politely, stretching his hand, but Jessica rejects it, crossing her arms against her chest as she glares at him, moody as only a teenager can be.

"Enough with the bullshit, tell me the truth!"

"Mind your language, Missy!" Aziraphale summons her with severe authority.

Taking advantage of the fact that there's no one around, not even Trish, because she can't see them from the window at that corner of the street, Aziraphale snaps his fingers and makes a bright blue light appear on his open palm, with a celestial tinkling. It's something so unequivocal that Jessica stares at him in awe.

"So, is this bullshit?" Aziraphale challenges her with his look, making the light and the sound disappear. "Oh dear, look what you've just made me say!" he rolls his eyes, making her chuckle.

"My dear Jessica, I'm not lying, I'm an angel and I chose you as my helper," the angel repeats.

"So what am I supposed to do? Wear a stupid white, long tunic and shoot arrows at people to make them fall in love? Maybe I'll play a lyre in the meantime?" the young girl strikes back, in disbelief.

"Oh good Lord, there's so much misinformation about it…" the blond angel shakes his head. "Cupids make people fall in love. I'm a Principality. However, I don't know what you have against white, long tunics, they are so comfortable! I've never played a lyre, but I've been told I'm discretely good with the transverse flute, and… okay, I'm stalling," he realises, judging by the way the girl is staring at him.

"What I'm asking of you is to protect people. That's why I gave you those powers: The super strength, a greater capability to bear pain and a faster recovery from injuries. Besides, not only can you jump from any height, but you can even reach any height from a jump. Try to jump when you have the time and you'll see." He smiles at her.

"Okay, you gave me all these super cool powers, you're an angel and everything… but why just me?" she frowns.

"You have within you this strong desire to protect, I can feel it. Just like with Trish, you feel the urge to protect your sister. Well, imagine that the world is full of Trishes… every time you save a person, you save her," he explains.

"Wait a minute, how the hell do you know about Trish? So I was right, you were there before, you damn stalker!" Jessica snaps.

"I may be a stalker, but surely I am not damned," the blond points out. "Yeah, I admit it, I have been observing you. What I can't explain is that I was doing that in an invisible state, so you shouldn't have been supposed to see me. No one is supposed to, and yet you have this capability. It has never happened before… and I was in the Garden of Eden when Adam was created!" he winks at her. "I think this is a sign. It's almost as if you were predestined to me, as if you were born to do that."

"Yep, I feel like I can do that and I want to do that. Also Trish says I should use my powers and do something good."

"Oh, dear girl, you're going to do tons of good stuff, but not now, you're still so young, after all, take your time to get acquainted with your powers, maybe for a couple of years. Once you're a little older, you can start to use them properly."

Jessica is not paying attention to him anymore, as she's lost in thought.

"If you're an angel, maybe my family… you can…" she hazards, but he anticipates her.

"No, little sweetheart, I'm so, so very sorry, but I can't do anything about it. When I arrived at the place of the accident, it was too late for all the others, I could save only you," he explains sorrowfully.

\- So it was_ you who asked me to do that, Jessica_.-

What he couldn't expect is that the teenager throws herself into his arms, crying, searching for some comfort and he gives her that, in a paternal way.

Judging by his apparent human age, he can easily be mistaken for Jessica's father.

"Thank you, I feel better, now," the brunette says, with the last sobs, before jumping to other conclusions.

"I could become a detective, find people who are missing, help people, protect the innocent from ill-intentioned people… I could have my own agency!" the girl starts daydreaming.

"It's not a bad idea, I'm sure you'll have time for anything. For now, just focus on little good deeds, the stuff that can happen every day. If there's something bigger, well, now you're equipped for it and if you need me just call me and I'll come for you." He smiles at her, fading away.

"Wait, Hazard-Refill!" Jessica calls him out.

The angel appears instantly.

"See? I kept my word. Anyway, my darling it's A-zi-ra-pha-le," he spells his name out, very patiently.

Jessica stares at him intently.

"Can I call you Zira?"

"Yeah, Zira is fine," the blond agrees.

"What's all this rush to disappear? Weren't we supposed to have some chocolate together?" she smiles.

London, Mayfair, Hill Street, 10 April 2000

Once he's done with his dinner, which consisted mostly of three or four glasses of red wine, Crowley decides to make that phone call.

Where the receiver of the phone call is, it is still afternoon.

"Dear!" the melodious Aziraphale's voice welcomes him, as the angel immediately stops reading the book on his lap.

"Any news? How is your candidate going?"

"Oh, she's going very well, tickety-boo," he giggles. "I was about to call you, you know? Just this morning I managed to approach her and now she knows who I am and why all that stuff happened. She has such a temper! And also some language not very suitable for such young lady, but I'll know how to tame her."

-_ Stop it, Crowley, you just can't be jealous of a teenage girl!_\- the demon reproaches himself, as he fills another glass.

"What about your candidate? Any news?" Aziraphale grows curious.

"Hell yeah, I've just got the printout of all the evil deeds! Looks like I chose a thoroughbred stallion for my Sin race!" Crowley sneers as he stares at the sheets he holds in his lap. He swings with his chair, his feet resting on the marble table.

He thinks he hears a voice calling his name, but he's not sure because he's drinking his fifth glass of wine on an empty stomach… he tends to hear more than a single voice.

"Well, I guess my filly will have to remain in the stable for a while, before she can run with your stallion… oh, good Lord, look what you're making me say!" Aziraphale grumbles, making him laugh. "I mean, since I chose such a young girl, I took some further risks. She'll need a burn-it, a slow rehearsal, at least at the beginning… just see it as a little advantage I'm allowing to you." the angel shrugs.

"Judging how fast my protége is progressing, it could be a huge advantage," the demon chuckles, before being alert.

Once more ,that oh-so-familiar voice calls out to him.

If his mind wasn't so blurred by the alcohol, Crowley could easily recall he gave a certain someone those instructions some days before.

"Really?" the blond grows concerned. "Could you…I don't know… slow him down a little bit?"

"Hell no, he's really got a taste for it!" the redhead chuckles, before hearing clearly that calling in his head.

\- _For Satan's sake, I have to go to Kevin!_ -

"I supposed so… oh well, I don't mind, it won't take long before my protége can be a match for him. You know, dear I was wondering. Now that my candidate knows everything, I could take some free days and go back to London? We could have a lunch or dinner together... what do you think?" Aziraphale asks him, feeling brave enough for that.

Silence from the other end.

"Crowley? Hello?"

Aziraphale makes a last attempt and then he hangs up, upset.

\- _Maybe he fell asleep. I'll try again another time… maybe_.-

***************** (in the meantime)

London, Goldsmiths University, Surrey House, 10 April 2000

At the end of a productive day of study, as he's relaxing in his dorm room far from anyone, Kevin tries to test what the demon suggested to him.

"Crowley!" he calls him out, but nothing happens.

"Croowleeey!" he tries again a tad later, raising his voice a little more.

As he waits, without success, his mobile rings.

At first he thinks it's Crowley who somehow is trying to contact him, but when he glances at the display he realises it's something totally different: that call comes from his father.

"Yeah?" he glacially answers.

"Kevin, a tragedy happened… this morning, when we got up, our laboratory was gone forever! Only ashes, dust and rubble...nothing has remained. Our whole lives' work has gone up in smoke… literally!" Albert reports to him, desperate.

\- _Surprise, surprise!_ \- Killgrave sneers.

"Oh my, that's terrible!" he says, displaying his best dramatic tone, as he can't help but wonder if this phone call is about something else.

\- _Maybe he's about to say that they've realised they have wasted our best years, maybe they want to get back in touch with me, maybe this is an outstretched hand…_-

"I've just called to tell you that, under the circumstances, I expect you to figure out better than us that we can't provide for you anymore," his father icily points out, destroying even Kevin's last ghost of hope to heal that wound.

"From now on, suit yourself with the University fees, the rent and stuff like that. Get a job, rob a bank, I don't care, but we're through with you!" The man hangs up.

At first Kevin feels like breaking down and crying, not for the money issue, of course, but then he drastically changes his mind.

\- _Oh, do not worry, father. I've never needed you, even less now that I can have anything_.- he smiles at himself.

"Crowley!" he tries a third time and it works, because the demon instantly appears.

"So it's that easy, then?" the student asks him.

"That's what I told you, isn't it? All you have to do is call me," the demon confirms. "It took me a bit longer because I was on the phone."

"Alright, good to know! So, if I called you because I'm in mortal danger, you would take your time!" Kevin grumbles, insulted.

"Oh, c'mon, ya're not in any bloody danger!" the demon slurs waving his hand in front of his face, annoyed.

"However, I thought it would have been way more complicated to invoke you."

"Really? Told ya it was that easy. Complicated… how?" the redhead chuckles.

"I don't know… I pictured you giving me a sort of talisman or a little casket to open whenever I needed you… or you teaching me a sort of Satanic ritual with the pentacle and some candles to wave…" the brunet grumbles.

Crowley laughs even louder.

"Just wave a bottle of red wine and I'll appear at ya in one second, without even being called by ya. A bottle of _Chateau Latour _and I'm practically yours… you know what I mean!" he points out, chuckling.

Kevin stares at him.

"Crowley… are you drunk?" he raises his eyebrow, tilting his head.

"Yeeeah, maybe, but not sooo much that I need to make me sober," the demon strikes back, swinging a little bit. "However, even if you didn't call me, I would pay you a visit, because I received the printouts of your evil deeds yesterday, and congrats, my boy! I guess you were really born to do that. You made someone set a fire… this will make even Hastur dizzy with joy!"

Kevin has no idea about who Crowley mentioned, but he prefers to ignore it.

"Guess what? I've found myself an alter-ego: Killgrave!" the student announces proudly.

"I don't know why, but it suits you." Crowley smiles at him. "So, Killgrave, tell me about what you did yesterday, and don't spare any details!"

TBC

Notes:

I don't know what you think, but I find canon Aziraphale trying not to make Jessica use dirty language LOL, but he can't win XD

Did you like drunk Crowley? He was fun to write ^^ just like Kevin imagining that to invoke him he had to do much more complicated things, lol

thanks for reading, if you find the time to leave a tiny comment, you'll have a extra happy author here ;)


	8. IV(I) Rules are rules

Summary:

Crowley and Aziraphale have a dat… errr business meeting, while Kevin is growing very curious about a certain issue...

Notes:

thanks for your lovely support, keep it coming, don't be shy 3

Huge thanks to my precious beta redundant_angel 3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

**Capitolo IV (I): Rules are rules**

London, Mayfair, Hill Street, 18 June 2000

Crowley has been vacuuming his living room probably for the tenth time that morning.  
Sure, it would take just a snap of his fingers to have the cleanest room ever, but that human tool that makes a hellish noise happens to calm him down.

And Crowley does need calm.  
Aziraphale will be there any minute.

The house is as clean as a whistle.  
To be the perfect guest, there's also a plate with some varieties of crepes.  
Not ordered at a pastry shop.  
Not created with magic, either.

Crowley made them on his own, equipped with a cookbook, a significant number of eggs and an even larger amount of patience.  
It hadn't been so difficult after all… after the first thirty crepes he burnt and nineteen pans ruined forever, cursing the whole of France more than once, Crowley finally made that elaborate procedure his own.

And judging by their smell, he must have done an amazing job.  
Crowley is tempted to light some candles to soften the lighting.

-_ Then what? Sappy music as background? Bloody heart-shaped pillows? It's not a date, you stupid demon. It's just work!_\- he smacks his head right before the bell rings.

He doesn't need any magic power to know it's Aziraphale.

\- _So he chose the human way to announce himself._ \- Crowley figures out and, choosing the same method, he rushes to open the door and welcome him.

Aziraphale gets in, showing such a brilliant smile that he could light the whole house up.

"We haven't seen each other since Amsterdam, my dear. Usually I hate to fill out this bureaucratic paperwork, but I admit I've never been so happy to take stock of the situation," the angel says, showing his leather folder with all the proper forms inside.

Very different from the crumpled bunch of sheets stained with coffee or wine that the demon has piled up on his marble table.

"You live in such a lovely apartment," the blond congratulates him.

\- _There's plenty of space, also for my books, if one fine day we lived togeth… what the heck am I thinking?_ \- he bites his lips, thanking his lucky stars that Crowley is not watching him.

"NGK! It's not as warm and cozy as your bookshop, but it's a roof over my head!" the demon shrugs,as he's not very used to compliments.

"You're too modest; such an unusual thing for a demon … what's this incredibly good smell?" the angel's senses grow alerted.

"You'll find the answer in the kitchen," Crowley says as he shows him the way. "I've prepared something to make a boring job a bit sweeter," he rambles.

"What does 'prepared' mean? You really made this wonderful deliciousness on your own?" Aziraphale asks him stunned, staring at the crepes on the table with adoring eyes.

"Well, yeah, otherwise I would have said 'bought' or 'miracled'..." the other grumbled. "Do you really think they're so beautiful?"

"Of course they are and I also bet they taste exquisite! You have to teach me how to prepare them," the angel spurs him.

Very explicit images pop into the demons' mind, about both of them covered only by skimpy aprons… and nothing else; Aziraphale's face and body smeared with dough and Crowley cleaning him up his way, resorting even to his forked tongue.

In Aziraphale's mind there's a very different kind of image, much more suitable for a teen audience: he and Crowley reading the cookbook together, Crowley's hand skimming over his own as he teaches Aziraphale how to hold the wooden spoon correctly, Crowley holding him tight, Crowley kissing the tip of his nose, smeared with the dark chocolate ganache Crowley taught him how to prepare.

"Well, yeah, we could do that… we'll see." Crowley mumbles, before collecting some sheets from his desk.

They patiently fill out every form and draw conclusions of those first months of their protegees' activities, spacing out their task with Crowley's crepes.

Aziraphale was right: they're exquisite.

-

"A couple of foiled robberies, three avoided riots, two homeless people rescued from lynching, four hooligans stopped, and ... nope, three old women she helped to cross the road, I can't count that!" Crowley sums up, reading Aziraphale's form.

"I don't see why you can't. Okay, it does not concern super strength, but it's a good deed, nonetheless!" Aziraphale protests, as he eats the last crepe. "We wouldn't be even anyway, even if you counted that. Look here: seven adultery cases, five domestic disputes, three riots in three different clubs, five armed robberies and … a theft in a church?" he grows suspicious reading the last issue, glaring at Crowley.

"Relax, no holy water, your gift is enough," the demon smiles innocently. "It's just an escapade, he made a guy steal the money offerings of the last two services," he points out.

"On one hand that sort of comforts me, but on the other … oh my, this is such a despicable thing!" the angel shakes his head, snorting.

"Oh yes it is! Isn't it great? My student is booming, and he has a penchant for forcing people to commit violence and lust!" the redhead giggles, pleased.

"Couldn't you just curb his talent a little bit?" Aziraphale dares to ask him.

"What? Heaven no, you bloody wish, angel! Why don't you spur your protégé a little more?"

"But she's still so young!" the blond retorts.

"Well, you gave her all she needs to defend herself. Stop being such an angel hen and let her face the world as it truly is!" Crowley advises him.

"I'm afraid you're right, I should quit protecting her from any danger, or at least from the minor ones. When we meet next time, things will be very different!" Aziraphale assures him.

"You think so? I guess my protégé can only improve, explore new paths, and test his own limits. As a consequence of that, I'll climb the charts. I can already smell a promotion!" Crowley sneers. "First, I made Eve eat the forbidden apple, then I almost tempted Jesus during those forty days in the desert. What other prestigious assignments could Hell give me? Maybe they'll choose me to bring the Antichrist to our world!" he brags.

Demons like talking big.

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. "As if you haven't already made an impression among your people!" "Well, I guess our meeting is over," he adds, getting up and Crowley's smug sneer instantly disappears.

"What? Already?" he pouts.

"I guess so, unless you forgot an evil deed to mention?"

"Nope, I've told you everything. Oh well, unless holding a far too dutiful angel here with me can count as an evil deed," he winks at him, trapping the angel between the wall and his body.

They stare at each other in silence and their breathing now is more like panting.

\- _To him it's just a game, demons always act like this… although he's so different from any other demon!_\- Aziraphale loses himself in his thoughts, before wriggling to slip away from him like an eel.

"Oh well, I don't think there's a chance for such a deed, because this dutiful angel won't let the tempting demon lure him away for long," he strikes back, regaining his freedom. "I left my protégé on holiday in Malibu with her stepmother and her stepsister," he explains.

"Oh sorry, I didn't realize your protégé was Cinderella!" Crowley makes a witty remark.

"You're not funny."

"Didn't you just tell me you wouldn't act so obsessively protective with her anymore?"

"You don't understand. That horrible Dorothy… she is pure Evil. Are we sure she doesn't work for your people?" Aziraphale wonders, before snapping his fingers to fade away, leaving Crowley rather puzzled.

********************** (In the meantime)

Malibu, Paradise Cove Beach Cafe, Pacific High Coast, 18 June 2000

Jessica and Patricia are chasing each other on the ocean shore, chuckling, as cheerful and serene as every girl of their age should be.

After appearing in a place hidden from everyone, Aziraphale sees them from the bridge and reaches them.

"Where's your mother?" he asks them.

"Trish is my sister, but that awful woman is not my mother!" Jessica snarls.

"She has a point, Zira," the blond girl agrees. "But I've been bound to her since I was born and I can't do anything about it."

Since Trish already knew about Jessica's powers, Jessica had decided to tell her a few days later how she got them, and she convinced Aziraphale to appear to Trish and explain everything to her for himself.

"Oh well, there was something that I could do about it." the brunette sneers with fake innocence.

"Jessica, I repeat, where is Dorothy?"

"In her beach cabin," his protégé replies.

"And?" he urges her to go on.

"Locked. Gagged," she reveals.

It only takes a deep look from the angel for her to tell him the whole truth.

"I might have found an iron bar and wrapped it around her waist," she shrugs as if it was a normal thing to do.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Jess!"

"I head her talking on her stupid phone, with her stupid friends. She was trying to get an audition for Trish, and in exchange Trish should behave 'very kindly' with the director… if you know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I do."

\- _Protection of an underage girl. I didn't put it in the deeds list. How could I forget it? Judging by how many times Jessica did it, Crowley and I could have been even!_\- the angel ponders, taking a mental note of calling Crowley later to edit their report.

He asks Jessica where the cabin is and heads over. Jessica gave him the key, so there's no need for a miracle to open it.

Aziraphale finds the woman in the conditions Jessica described.  
She's mumbling something but no one can hear her. Aziraphale doesn't know if removing the gag is a good idea but eventually decides to do so.

"You, lousy angel and that devil you created…" Dorothy roars, enraged.

Yes, she also knows the whole truth. At the umpteenth abuse over Trish, Jessica established it was a good idea to display her powers. Aziraphale immediately intervened, confessing everything, but making the woman promise she wouldn't tell anyone.

"Please, Mrs. Walker, don't force me to gag you again," Aziraphale says. "I know what you've tried to do," he adds, as he unfolds the bar as if it was made of paper.

"It was only work," she justifies.

"Let me give you some advice. _Work_ less." he pauses, lingering on that word with all the irony he can muster. "And enjoy your holiday more. I'll keep an eye to the girls. Why don't you take a long, extremely long walk?" he spurs her.

"Are you threatening me?" the woman glares at him.

"Me? Nope, of course, I never could. It's not in my celestial nature. But if I were you, I would accept the advice of relaxing. I'm guessing you don't want to wake up tomorrow with cellulite, double chin or varicose veins, am I right?" Aziraphale calmly hints at his potential threat.

"And you dare call yourself an angel!" she snaps, collecting her stuff, before following that 'friendly' advice.

"As a matter of fact, I know demons who are ten thousands times more human than you!" he strikes back before she leaves, slamming the door.

London, Goldsmiths University, Surrey House, 19 June 2000

"So, I made you score some points, didn't? I'm glad." Kevin smiles at Crowley the morning after, as they are having breakfast together in his student housing.

Oh well, just one of them is actually eating, the other one is spinning the spoon in the cup of his coffee that he might drink.

"Hell yeah you did, you made the brightness of Heaven turn pale!" Crowley chuckles, swinging on his chair.

"I'm happy I didn't let you down," Kevin beams as he smears the butter on his toast. "Who is my rival?" he casually asks him, taking the first bite.

"I beg your pardon?" the other raises his eyebrow.

"Just like you chose me to make people commit evil deeds, I suppose that Heaven chose someone else to make them commit good ones," the student cleverly figures out.

"Uh! Well, rules are rules, I shouldn't tell you anything about that..." Crowley grumbles.

"But…" he anticipates him.

"Well, let's say that she doesn't make people do good deeds, but protects them from the evil ones," he explains.

"So my rival is a she," Kevin murmurs, intrigued, as he pours some orange juice.

"For Satan's sake, it just slipped out. However, don't get any ideas, she's underage…  
dammit! I shouldn't have told you this either!" Crowley curses.

"She won't be underage forever…" Kevin chuckles, pressing his tongue against his teeth in a mischievous way.

"Kevin…" Crowley reproaches him.

"Just kidding…" the boy giggles.

(End I)

Notes:

Hope you'll like it, pleeease let me and don't miss the next part, VERY important stuff is going to happen, try to guess what ;)


	9. IV(II) Rules are rules

**Capitolo IV (II): Rules are rules**

"I do hope that you're just kidding, Kevin. Okay, now tell me… what are your plans for the future?"

"Huh?"

"With the power I gave you… don't you want to travel around the world?" the demon asks him.

His elbows are resting on the table, his chin rests in his hands, so he can watch his pupil better.

"What? My list of sins around this town is not enough anymore?" the student makes a witty remark.

"To me it's more than okay, I was talking about you. With the power I gave you, you can practically have the world at your feet. Don't you want something for yourself? Anything, really?"

"Sure I do. My graduation." Kevin calmly replies. "Not because I have my powers, but because I've studied hard to achieve it. In November, not only will I graduate top of my class, but I'll also have a year of pre-professional practice. And that's because I want to see the difference between getting inside people's minds when I use my powers and doing it because I have the proper training." he sneers.

"So the world can wait, right?" Crowley shrugs.

"The world can wait." the human confirms.

-

Manhattan, Chase Bank, Plaza Health Club, 22 September 2000

As the police patrol crowds around the bank, against their cars, summoning the robber to let the hostages go and come out with his hands up, a brunette, by then aged fourteen years old, goes inside the building. She's totally unarmed, and after three minutes she comes out with the knocked out robber and the hostages, who are finally free to go on with their lives.

"This is for you," she says, throwing the criminal to the policemen who stare at her, dumbfounded.

Jessica reaches Aziraphale, who is waiting for her at the corner of the street and has enjoyed the whole scene.

"This is the third robbery you've stopped in two months. You definitely know your way." the angel congratulates her as they head back home.

"It's just fun!" the girl grins.

"Crowley was right, I should have quit being so protective of you by now."

"Who is Crowley?" Jessica asks him.

Aziraphale wishes he could have bitten his own tongue.

"Huh, I said nothing important, dear."

"You wouldn't have mentioned him if he wasn't someone important. Come to think of it, you know everything about me, but I know nothing about you. Don't you think it's time to tell me more? Starting from this Crowley…" she insists, with the attitude of one who can become a brilliant detective.

"I find it fair. Okay, what can I say? You already know that angels exist, well, so do demons. Crowley is one of them, although he is so, so different from them all, and he's been on Earth for as long as I have. So, as I chose you as my assistant, he…"

"So are you telling me that there's a fucking asshole among the humans who makes the evil deeds in the world increase? And maybe he even makes me do twice as much work?" she snaps.

"What did we say about that language, not suitable for such a nice girl as you?" Aziraphale rolls his eyes.

"Where the fuck do you see the fucking nice girl?" Jessica retorts and Aziraphale figures out that that is an uphill battle.

"However, know that it was Crowley's idea!"

"So it's your asshole friend's fault if I'm in this fucking mess!"

"He's not an... 'asshole,'" Aziraphale protests, bringing a hand to his mouth a second later, shocked by his dirty language.

"But he's your friend." Jessica figures out, watching the angel blush. "No, wait, he's something more than a friend, am I right?"

"My dear, can we please go back talking about how incredible you were today at the bank?" Aziraphale pleads, covered in a cold sweat.

"Nope, but we can talk about my rival, I'd prefer to know something about him."

"What makes you think that your rival is a 'he'?"

"I don't know, it's my intuition!" the brunette shrugs.

"You know what, Jessica? I'm sure you'll become a brilliant detective." Aziraphale smiles at her. "But I can't tell you anything about your rival, and I think it's better if you never ever meet each other."

"Why not?" the teenager narrows her eyes.

"I don't know, probably you would immediately figure out that you are each other's nemesis, and would try to kill each other."

"Does he have super strength too?" she grows curious.

"Nope, he has something very different, but, as I told you before, I can say nothing about him. Rules are rules." the angel strikes back, inflexible.

London, Colbun Psychology, Bentinck House, Bolsover Street, 03 December 2002

"Here we go, Mr. Hartey, this is your schedule, planned with Dr. Manner to help you with your anger management," the psychologist trainee Kevin Thompson says to the patient he's handling with his mentor.

Everything went according to his plans. He graduated at the top of his class and he's been working as an apprentice in that well-known studio for two years.

He smiles affably at the patient as he walks him to the door.

And it's when the professional figure of Kevin is eagerly replaced by Killgrave.

"We'll start next week. As we try to find the cure for your problem, follow my advice: give vent to your rage, Mr. Hartey," he dismisses him, sending that mental order to him.

"I wasn't joking when I said you were born to do that!" Crowley claps his hands, appearing in front of him out of the blue.

"How many times did I tell you not to spy on me when you're invisible?" Kevin snorts.

"I can't help it, it's too much fun. Besides, this thing about using your own patients is brilliant!" the demon praises him.

"They're not my patients, I don't have my study yet, I just work here as an apprentice." the twenty-six year old man points out. "If he doesn't do any significant damage that can compromise his parole, maybe Dr. Manner will see Mr. Hartey again at their next sitting." he chuckles.

"Why just Dr. Manner? Won't you be with him?" the redhead frowns.

"Do you remember that old speech of some years ago? I guess it's time to travel around the world." the brunet sneers.

-

New York, Central Park, Upper East Side, 24 February 2004

Walking around in one of the most disreputable places late at night, among drug dealers caught off guard, stopped robbers, prevented aggressions and ill-intentioned people she managed to disarm just with a kick, the seventeen-years old Jessica is more than than trained to protect people from every kind of danger or evil deed.

And Central Park has become her favourite playground.

Although she still keeps in touch with Trish, Jessica now lives on her own in a ramshackle apartment in _Hell's Kitchen_ and she is about to open her private detective agency in a few months.

"My dear, I guess I'll never thank you enough for all your amazing progress. Just yesterday, Crowley and I checked on your deeds and you made a gap over your rival of twenty good deeds, nonetheless!" Aziraphale gloats.

"So let me know if I've got it straight. This is just a challenge for you two, isn't it?" Jessica darkens, her hands on her hips.

"Nooo, of course it's not! It's safeguarding people we are talking about; I could never underestimate something so important!" he protests, way too indignated and the young woman, fully developed and with an even fiercer attitude, notices that.

"Zira, Zira, you can't fool me. C'mon, tell me, what did you bet this time?"

"I've driven his Bentley!" the angel reveals, grinning, his eyes shining with joy at the memory.

That was a very traumatic experience for Crowley.

"I knew it!" Jessica rolls her eyes, but actually she is amused. "Well, I'm glad to know I did better than that asshole!" she grins, satisfied.

"I'll try not to mind your last epithet," the angel snorts. "What is certain is that you don't need my constant supervision anymore. It doesn't mean that you can't call me if you need me."

-

New York, Minton's Playhouse, Harlem, 206 W 118th Street, 5 April 2006

She didn't like that man, from the very first moment she saw him on the street.

He's been acting too nervously, too guilty, just like someone who is about to do something horrible.

That's why Jessica changed her mind about the case she was working at and decided to stalk that guy instead.

It's almost ironic how the guy seems to be stalking someone else.

He's been stationed near the _Minton's Playhouse_ for at least a quarter of an hour, an elegant bar in _Harlem_.

Right after the happy hour time, the object of his interest seems to arrive.

Jessica sees a handsome young man approaching, maybe he's not even thirty years old, he's tall, slender, with elegant manners. He wears a dark blue suit and a grey-baby blue shirt.  
He passes his hand more than once though his brown hair that seems to have its own gravity and then he enters the locale.

The suspicious character enters as well, but he does from the backdoor.  
Without anyone seeing him, he grabs an apron and wears it.

Truth is that someone did notice him. Jessica enters his same way and doesn't lose sight of him for a second.

She is trying to figure out why he walked behind the counter until a waiter, without even bothering to notice if that man belongs to their staff or not, gives him the handsome man 's drink order.

The suspicious character starts preparing the requested cocktail with trembling hands and then he takes a look around, assuring himself no one is watching him.  
He takes a vial from his pocket and pours some of the content inside it.

To Jessica everything is finally clear.

Kevin wasn't joking when he said he wanted to see the world. During those three years he's been practically everywhere: Paris, Strasbourg, Wien, Berlin, Rome, Milan, Madrid, Lisbon, Ireland and many other places.

Usually he doesn't stop in a town for more than two months, but he loved Scotland so much he stayed there for a whole year.

He decided to visit the United States as well and he decided to start from New York. He's been there for a week.

He has a fertile ground to act as Killgrave, especially to instigate women to betrayal.  
Something particularly edifying to him.  
Sitting on a comfortable red armchair, Killgrave is enjoying the jazz band playing on the small stage, as he ponders the next evil deed he could make someone do.  
He recalls the last tally of the deeds Crowley has told him about, a couple of weeks before.

The most incredible thing is that the two rivals reached the same amount of deeds, nearly perfectly even.

\- _That little girl is not the disaster she used to be at the beginning anymore, when I could beat her even in my sleep. Well, it's getting more challenging this way_. - he muses, more amused rather than annoyed.

The waiter places his _Manhattan_ on Kevin's table, but before he can bring the glass to his mouth, someone snatches it out of his hand rather violently, breaking it in hundreds of pieces.

"If i were you, I wouldn't drink it. Someone put something funny inside it." a rough female voice warns him.

Raising his gaze, Kevin sees a young girl, probably twenty years old, with big eyes that embrace bright hazel and dark green. She's very tall, with an athletic figure. Her long legs are wrapped inside her skinny black jeans. Her white jacket creates a contrast with her black, satin hair, gathered in a soft chignon that lets some wild locks free, framing her perfect visage. Her mouth has full and sensual lips and her dark red lipstick sets them off.

Kevin is sure he hasn't ever seen a more beautiful girl than her.

TBC

Notes:

I know, I know it's evil to stop here… Killgrave made me do it, LOL

I really love the AU where he's a psychologist (oh well even if only a trainee, he already did some damages XD without mentioning the fact that my mind popped the image of Barty Crouch Junior as a Kevin's patient who has very huge trouble controlling his rage… but also Aec Hardy who would snap every second, LOL, too many crossovers in my mind XD )

Hope you'll like it but feel free to tell me anything 3


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